


Live

by Proskenion



Series: What Is Dead May Never Die [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, Gen, M/M, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22130806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proskenion/pseuds/Proskenion
Summary: "Theon, you're a good man. Thank you. It's almost over, now." Bran said. "Stay near me."Theon nodded and position himself near Bran, still holding his spear with both hands.Or how this scene should have bloody happened.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Series: What Is Dead May Never Die [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595152
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	Live

**Author's Note:**

> I fixed it.

Out of breath, Theon reached out for an arrow but his hand met only a cold, empty space. He looked around and saw only corpses. His men were dead, all of them. He pinched his lips, a stung in his chest. But he had no time to mourn them, not now, for the Dead were still coming from every direction, and Bran needed his protection still. He grasped his spear in both hands. He would protect the boy - well, not quite a boy anymore - until his last breath if he had to. He gave a quick glance to Bran before resuming the fight. 

He fought and fought and fought, despite his aching limbs, his burning lungs and heavy breath. He fought even when his sight started to blur with exhaustion. He fought, in spite of everything. He kept Bran safe. 

"Theon," Bran called. 

Breathless, Theon turned to him. Bran was staring at him with this intense, all-knowing gaze of him, and Theon felt read through and in depth. The sweat and cold has glued his hair to his skin, his muscles were torn with pain, and his damage body screamed in agony. But he stood tall, motionless except from his chest going up and down with his breathing. 

"You're a good man," Bran said. "Thank you." 

Theon's lips trembled, a sob rolling in his throat. His heart jumped with gratitude and pain. He looked at Bran with eyes that were begging to shed tears, and for one moment he saw that little, crippled boy in his bed looking back at him. Except this time, he was smiling. 

"It's almost over, now." Bran said. "Stay near me." 

Theon nodded and position himself near Bran, still holding his spear with both hands. 

Then he saw him. The Night King. Theon readied himself. Next to him, Bran told him again to stay by his side, so Theon didn't move. He stood in front of Bran, the only shield between the Night King and the Three-Eyed Raven. He stood, knowing he was where he was meant to be. _Everything you've done have brought you here, where you belong._

The Night King walked in their direction slowly, determined, cold-hearted. Theon took a breath and pointed his spear, ready to attack as soon as the Night King would be too close. 

"Don't move," demanded Bran. "Trust me. It will end soon." 

Theon didn't move, eyed fixed on the Night King. His heart was beating furiously in his chest. The White Walker was coming closer, always closer, and nothing was happening, nothing to stop his way. But Bran had asked Theon to trust him, so Theon did. 

A scream tore the night apart. Theon looked up in a start. As if flying, Arya appeared between the trees, falling on the Night King. But he was waiting, and with no effort, he stopped her, catching her by her throat. Eyes wide in shock, Theon made a move to help her. 

"Don't move !" Bran ordered. 

Theon stopped. He look at Bran, bewildered. 

"Look," said Bran. 

Theon turned his face in the direction of Arya and te Night King. He saw Arya's knife fall from her hand... into her other hand. She plunged it deep in the Night King's chest. 

There was a shrieking sound, like the wind blowing in a half-closed window, then a cracking sound like ice breaking. The Night King exploded into thousand pieces that disappeared in the heavy snow. Arya fell on her feet as light as a cat. 

It was over. 

Arya turned to them with a proud smirk. She put her dagger in her belt and said: 

"So, that's it? Wasn't that much a big deal." 

Theon found himself snorting. Laughing was a weird notion for him now, but the girl's assurance amused him. Arya walked to Bran, glancing vaguely at Theon when she passed near him. 

"Let's go back to the castle," Arya said, pushing Bran's wheelchair. "They need us here." 

Theon looked at them go but didn't move. His men were all lying there, and he felt he couldn't just leave them here. He also felt the exhaustion of the fight taking over him abruptly now that everything was over. The cold loneliness of the Gods' wood was calling for him. 

He fell to his knees. He looked up at the tree's face. He remembered a time when he had come here and prayed a desperate, hopeless prayer. It felt like a lifetime ago. _Another life, another man..._

"Thank you," Theon whispered. 

For his prayer had been granted. He didn't die as Reek. But what about Theon? He didn't die as Reek, but neither did he die as Theon. What would he do now? What future was waiting for him? He had thought this night would be his last, but here he was, still alive. What would he do?

 _Theon..._

The wind whispered his name in the weirwood's foliage, just like last time. Theon startled. He knew that voice. Last time, he had thought it was Bran, talking to him through the tree. But this voice wasn't Bran's... 

_Theon._

"Robb?..." Theon whispered hesitantly, desperately, his voice shaken by sobs.

 _Theon._

"Robb!" 

Theon broke down in tears. Robb, it was Robb! Theon trudged to the tree, reaching out to touch the face carved in the bark. Oh, if only it were Robb's face... 

"Robb, oh! Robb..." Theon struggled to say, voice strangled by tears. "Robb, I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry, I... What shall I do, Robb? What shall I do?" 

Only the wind answered and Theon dissolved in his tears, curled up in the snow against the tree. He didn't notice the night was ending, the sun slowly showing his young, soft light. He cried and cried, calling Robb's name and hanging onto the tree as if his life depended on it - no, something way much more important than his life, so, so much more important than his life... 

_Theon. Theon..._

Theon stayed still. He looked up and met the tree's face, the tree's huge eyes... they looked so different than last time. Theon waited. No matter what he would be asked to do, he was ready. 

_Theon. Live._

Theon gasped. He slowly looked down, at his hands, at himself. Live? Slowly, the idea started to sink down his mind. Live. A soft breeze stroke his hair. The tears kept flowing, but the sobs slowly turned into a laugh. Live. Not die. Live. Live, as Theon. 

_Live, Theon. Live._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> It took me ages to allow myself to write this. I didn't want to because I didn't want to give the show any form of credit. But it appears that in the end, I need it. Because when I'm sad and think of Theon now, my mind always shows me his death scene, and it kills me. I need him alive, and I will always hate what they did to him. Theon is alive. _What is dead may never die. <\i>_


End file.
